Favorite Poems
Throughout My Life
85: “my father moved through dooms of
love,” 1940, by E. E. Cummings (1894–1962)
Another one
to blame on Joyce—
Who posted
this on Father’s Day.
And in her
room she heard my voice:
“I gotta learn this thing—some way!”
Some weeks
went by while I rehearsed
These lines
and images complex—
I slowly
sailed the Sea of Worst
While
Cummings’ words just puzzled, vexed.
But—slowly!
slowly!—sense emerged—
I sailed
upon a different sea—
And hope and
pleasure through me surged.
And soon I
had it—error-free!*
See, even
murky things can clear
With
effort—this is no surprise.
Yes, I’ve
felt fearsome words grow dear—
And this is
why I memorize.
*Well …
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